Page 73 of Breaking His Exile

Footsteps creaked in the hall outside. He turned his head toward the door too fast, and the headache spiked.

But it wasn’t Rainey.

Greta knocked twice, then came in without waiting for an answer because she had never once in their friendship waited for an answer.

She wore her typical trail clothes— cargo pants, a faded green fleece, her strawberry-blond braid pulled into a ponytail through the back of her baseball cap. She looked like she’d driven straight from the backcountry, which, knowing her, she probably had.

Her gaze swept him once, top to bottom. “My God, you look terrible.”

He glowered at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, quit mean-mugging. I’m visiting my friend, who looks like he needs a hug.”

“No—”

She ignored the protest, crossed the room, and put her arms around his shoulders. He stayed rigid for three seconds, then gave up fighting against the hug. The more he fought, the longer she’d hold, just to be spiteful. He knew from experience.

When she finally drew back, she studied his face again for a long beat. “You’re thinking about leaving.”

“I’m thinking about my horse.”

“Your horse is fine. Jonah found her, and she’s in the barn, safe and warm.”

Fuck. There went his excuse.

Greta pulled the other chair around and dropped into it backward, arms folded across the top rail. She’d always sat that way, like furniture was something to be argued with. She watched him with those pale green eyes that had a way of finding the seam in everything he put up.

“So,” she said. “You got yourself into one hell of a mess.”

“It’s your fault,” he muttered.

She blinked. “My fault.”

“I went to the Dead Marshall because I kept hearing your voice in my head nagging me about being lonely. So I went. I met Rainey. I stabbed a man. I spent a week on a mountain getting shot at, and I ended up in a hospital gown with my ass hanging out at Valor Ridge.” He scowled at her. “Your fault.”

Greta sat on the edge of the bed and was quiet for a moment. “Okay, yeah. I’ll take the blame for the most interesting thing that’s happened to you in eight years. So… you’re welcome.”

He almost laughed. It came close enough to the surface that he had to look away, which she noticed and had the grace not to remark on.

“Evander,” she said, her voice going soft. “Don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Run away.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and when he turned back to look at her, the lightness had gone out of her face. “You’re sitting there figuring out how fast you can get out of here. How long until Bear clears you, what trail gets you back to your cabin fastest. You’re thinking about how to leave before anyone here expects you to stay.

“We’ve been friends for a while now.” She picked at a loose thread on her cargo pants. “But I only just realized recently that I’m your only friend. You’ve turned isolation into punishment and convinced yourself it’s just how you live. And I let you, because you’re not mine to fix and I know better than to try.”

“I like how I live.”

“That’s a bald-faced lie. Maybe it didn’t used to be, but it is now. Whatever happened on that mountain this week changed you. I can see it on you, and I have never once seen you look the way you looked walking through that gate last night with your ribs caved in and that woman’s arm through yours.” She lifted her gaze to his and held it. “Running back to your cabin won’t undo it. You’ll still be changed. And you’ll just hate yourself more for not giving that change a shot.”

He looked at the window. The pale Montana morning, the pines along the fence line, the edge of the barn roof visible at the corner.

“I’m not asking you to stay here forever,” Greta said. “I’m not asking you to ask Valor Ridge to take you back, or to have some conversation with Walker, or to figure out the whole rest of it right now. I’m asking you to—” She stopped. “I’ve spent years wishing you’d want more than survival for yourself. That’s all. I’ve been watching you survive, and it is impressive, but it’s also exhausting to witness. Now you might actually want something more, and I can’t stand back and watch you punish yourself for it.”

He didn’t answer her right away.

The window held his attention. A pair of sparrows hopped the fence line below, indifferent to everything. A rooster crowed. Dogs barked. Men shouted to each other and laughed.